


All Saints' Eve

by eMJanine (janinne_malfoy_potter)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Ron being a prat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janinne_malfoy_potter/pseuds/eMJanine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Saints' Eve is full of surprises this year at Hogwarts. Ron Weasley might not be happy about it. Just a little bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Saints' Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and settings in this story, and although I might wish it were differently, they are solely the property of J. K. Rowling. No profit made.
> 
> A/N: Snape is for some unknown reason alive in this story. I seriously don't know why.

**All Saints’ Eve**

It was morning on the 31st of October and students of Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had a normal school day ahead of them. They were sleepily walking halls of the castle, heading to the Great Hall for breakfast, running to the library in order to finish an essay they had completely forgotten about or simply hanging around corridors with classmates to check up on the newest gossip. Everyone wished the day was over soon and they could enjoy the glorious dinner that was always served on All Saints’ Eve.

Harry Potter wasn’t any different from his classmates. He was sitting at the Gryffindor table, trying to get a few bites of  _anything_  before Ron stuffed it all into his mouth. If Harry had learned anything, it was to never  _ever_ leave anything he planned to eat in front of his best friend, especially in mornings. Harry had never really understood how all the food could actually  _fit_  into the redhead, but he thought that this answer he could live without. He played with a sausage on his plate and admired the whole place.

Hogwarts’ Great Hall had alreadv been prepared for the upcoming feast, big pumpkins hung from the ceiling as if on invisible ropes, creepy looking smiles carved into them, thematic decorations were positioned around the whole place, everything made in shades of black and orange, walls were painted orange, too, with small black bats flying over them. Harry had always thought that the decorations on the day were amazing, but it seemed the teachers had outdone themselves this year.

“Hand me the eggs, mate, will you?” Ron asked from across the table and looked at Harry almost pleadingly. Harry did as asked and turned his eyes back to his plate, when a bored voice cut through the calmness of the Hall.

“Weasley, can you actually leave something for the rest of us? Or are you stuffing yourself so you won’t starve during Christmas at home?” Malfoy’s tone was casual, as if he was talking about the weather or something. He stood almost behind Harry, watching Ron with a smug smile playing on his pale lips. His hair was combed back, not even one strand in out of place, with his school bag haphazardly thrown over his shoulder. He looked  _fetching_  as always and Harry had to make his eyes focus back on Ron by sheer will. 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Ron croaked, trying to suppress the anger boiling inside him and failing spectacularly, if his brightly red face and trembling fists were anything to go by. “Snakes sit right there,” he pointed his finger at the Slytherin table, “so piss off.”

“Oh, come on, Weasley, I was only admiring the decoration in this part of the Hall, no need to be rude.” Malfoy’s smirk widened, pleasure from getting such a response visible in his delicate features. “As I was telling Blaise here,” he patted his black-skinned friend on the shoulder, “I find it really sad that we’re not allowed to play the traditional wizarding Halloween games. Not that you’d know anything about that, mind you,” he sneered. “I especially loved the pumpkin smashing. What a pity. I could have blown your head off and pretend it was just a coincidence, you know, mistaking your head for it.” He turned to Blaise and gestured with his hands as if giving him a lecture. “You see, the similarity is clearly there. Both are orange, with dumb faces and nothing inside.” He looked pleased with himself as his companion burst into laughter and Ron’s face, if it were possible, had got even redder. “With that said,” Malfoy turned his glare pointedly at Harry and then back to Ron, “have a nice day, Weasley.” He turned and almost floated to the Slytherin table.

“Come back, you stupid ferret, and let’s see what’s exactly in  _your_  head!” Ron was ready to jump over the table and punch the git right in the face, which he would have done, too, if Dean and Neville hadn’t been fast enough. They took him by the shoulders and pressed him down to make him sit, but it definitely was a tough fight, as the redhead refused to back down. “Let me go, Dean,” he shouted at the boy, but there was no chance.

“Ronald, stop it, he’s not worth it,” Hermione started but shut her mouth as soon as Ron turned his face to her.  She knew that no argument she made would calm him down, so she at least patted his arm lovingly. Which, surprisingly, seemed to work. At least a little bit.

“But, ‘Mione, the prat really deserve to get his face punched in. Next time, even if the whole of Gryffindor holds me back, it won’t save him.” He sat back and angrily stabbed his sausage. It was obvious that if the Slytherin got within his reach in the next couple of minutes, things wouldn’t end well. Probably for  _none_  of them. “Harry, tell her something.”Ron turned his gaze to his best friend. Harry knew exactly what he wanted and expected to hear. But it didn’t come.

“Sorry, Ron, but Hermione is right this time,” he said. Ron’s expression turned betrayed.

“What? How can you say that? That bastard was insulting my family! Again.” He scowled.

“Ron, he wasn’t insulting your family, he was insulting  _you_.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it wasn’t the right answer. Ron’s face grew even redder by then and Harry knew that one more wrong word would make his anger turn towards him. “I mean, this is exactly what he wanted. To make you angry and fight him and get into trouble. Don’t you see that? Come on. I don’t want to argue with you over him.” He shot Ron a look and then quickly stood up. “Don’t let him get to you, mate. See you later.” With that, he hurriedly left the Great Hall and headed for the Gryffindor Common Room.

 

Friday was Harry’s favourite day of the week and not just because it was  _Friday_. He had a free period in the morning and since all the other 8th-year Gryffindor boys had lectures, the dormitory was empty. This suited Harry just fine because this time alone could always be used for some private activities. Like  _arguing_  with his boyfriend, for example.  As soon as Harry closed the door to the bedroom, his gaze turned to the boy sitting on his bed who had been hidden underneath Harry’s Invisibility Cloak.

“What the fuck was that, Malfoy?” Harry snapped. He was incredibly angry. Yes, Draco was his boyfriend and they had agreed they would pretend on the outside nothing had changed in their relationship, but it didn’t mean he could just walk around insulting people Harry cared about. Which Draco had managed that morning spectacularly.

“Malfoy again, Potter? May I ask why?” Draco retorted sharply and his face hardened. He had obviously been expecting an argument.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t know. What was that supposed to be downstairs?”

“Oh, you mean Weasley,” Draco said, pointedly looking somewhere above Harry’s shoulder.

“Damn well I do. I thought we agreed on something, Draco. You can insult me in public, but not my family.”

 “First of all,” Draco said, standing up, “I wasn’t insulting anyone’s family. I was insulting _onl_ _y_  him.” He didn’t raise his voice but it was as cold as ice. “And I didn’t promise you I would never say anything to him. You know that I don’t like him and that hasn’t changed and I doubt it ever will. You knew that when we got together. Did you think you could just come and change me? Because if that’s what you want, let me enlighten you. It’s not going to happen.” He clenched his fists by his sides.

“Ron  _is_  my family, okay? And no, I don’t want to change you, I’ve told you a million times. But since you didn’t say anything to him for the last couple of weeks, I simply thought you’d enough of that. So why today? Give me one reason, Draco. What has happened today that you just had to go and say those things?”

“Oh,  _he_  is your family. But what am I, then? When you even can’t tell your  _family_  about us? You just keep sneaking me around like a dirty little secret and I can’t say anything? Weasley thinks you’re in a relationship with a girl, for Merlin’s sake!” Draco’s voice now sounded even colder. It was visible he was doing his best to keep calm. Relatively.

“Fair enough, but what does it have to do with you insulting Ron? He’s not done anything to provoke you!”

“Oh, he did, too! I heard him today before breakfast in front of the library telling Granger about how great it was that Weaslette and you were back together and all that shite and it simply pissed me off. How stupid of me, isn’t it?” Despite the fact that his tone was fairly sarcastic, Draco’s eyes gleamed now and his still clenched fists trembled slightly. He fought as hard as he could to suppress his emotions, but although they had been together only for a couple of months, Harry knew Draco better than anyone else. Watching a sworn enemy for a couple of years does that to a person, and he wasn’t any exception. Draco was hiding how upset he really was behind his mask of anger and it made him lash out. How could Harry’s anger compete with that? The rage he had felt a couple of seconds ago evaporated and all that was left was the bitter feeling of disappointment and guilt.

He slowly walked to the still trembling Draco and made him sit back on his bed, making himself comfortable next to him.  They both sat in silence for a while, until Draco broke it.

“I am sorry, Harry. But I just couldn’t help myself.” He rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and Harry knew that he’d lost this fight. He laid his arm around his boyfriend’s lower back, stroking him tentatively. Draco was a terribly talented manipulator and Harry knew that, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Every time Draco brought up the fact that Harry didn’t want to tell his friends the truth about them, he felt guilty. It was hard to say if Draco knew this or not. Either way, it worked.  Draco had expressed his wish to be publicly recognized as Harry’s boyfriend a long time ago, but Harry had dismissed the idea. After a heated argument he had finally convinced Draco that this was in his interest, too. They had their privacy and no one needed to know what the Boy-Who-Lived did in his bedroom and with whom. And it was partly the truth, too, because as soon as the world found out that instead a nice girl he had chosen the son of an infamous Death Eater, who’d been a Death Eater himself in most people’s books, too, all hell would break loose. It wouldn’t go down well with anyone, the least with people who had actually known Draco for as long as Harry had. There was only one person who he’d told and that was enough for him. However, he started to realise in the last couple of weeks, that if he wanted his relationship to last, and that he did, he would have to come out one day. And the sooner he did it, the better. It didn’t mean he wasn’t scared shitless, but he’d survived worse, after all. And perhaps things wouldn’t go as badly as he’d imagined.  

“I’m sorry, too. I should have known something like this would happen.  But next time, just be angry with me. I know that this is hard for you.  And the thing is, it starts to piss me off, too. So,“ he took a deep breath, “ I’ve decided to tell them this weekend.”

Draco’s head shot up at this, his body suddenly stiff. “Are you serious, Harry?” he asked with wide, surprised eyes. He had hoped to hear this for weeks.

“Yes, I am. Why? Have  _you_  changed your mind?”

“No, of course not. It’s just....I don’t want you to do that because of me. I mean I would love to go public, but I want you to do what you feel is right.” Draco’s voice shook a bit.

“You are right for me, Draco. And I want everyone to see that,” Harry turned his head a bit and took Draco’s in his hands, so he could look Draco in the eyes. “I love you, you know that,” he smiled and touched Draco’s lips with his own. “Plus, I don't think that not telling anyone would really help anything.“

“I love you, too,” the blond breathed back and then pressed his lips onto Harry’s more firmly, brushing them with his tongue, asking for entry. The kisses became more heated and within a few minutes, the boys lay on the bed, trying to touch every inch of the other’s skin. The Invisibility Cloak was left on the floor alongside their robes, everything thrown in one messy heap, but none of them cared. The most important things were the kisses and touches and o _h my god_ s of their passionate love-making.

 

Half an hour later, Harry lay on his back, his arm around Draco, who had his head laid on Harry’s bare chest. They were still breathing loudly, but they were relaxed and sated, happy to be with one another.

“You know, if insulting Weasley brings up this sort of reaction, I might do it more often,” Draco teased.

“Don’t you dare! Next time, I will let Ron after you and then you will see a completely different kind of passion. The one with your face and his _fists_ ,” Harry answered lazily, smile stretching his face, absentmindedly caressing Draco’s shoulder and collar bone with his fingers. He felt content and happy and wished he could do this whenever he wanted, not only in these stolen moments.  

“You wouldn’t,” the blond looked at him accusingly, but amusement shone from his eyes.  He leaned up to Harry’s face to kiss him, but he didn’t manage to do that.

“Oh, I defin-“ Harry stopped mid-word.

Draco snapped his head up and turned over his shoulder to see what had caused the interruption and gasped. There, in the door to the room, with a gobsmacked expression in his face, stood Ron Weasley.

 “Oh shit”, he mumbled and sat up fast, but Harry was already on his feet, quickly pulling on his pants and shirt and following his best friend, who left the room as soon as his mind had caught up with what he had been seeing.

Draco flopped back on the bed, facing the canopy. Yes, he wanted the damn Weasel to know about his and Harry’s relationship, but even he had to admit that this probably wasn’t the best way of telling him. He just hoped that the redhead wouldn’t go blabbing around the school and, most importantly, that he wouldn’t hurt Harry.

 

A couple of minutes later, Draco had got dressed and was nervously sitting on the bed, waiting for Harry to let him know what had happened with his best friend. He considered going to find him, but promptly dismissed the idea. It was bad as it was and his presence would just be adding more oil to the fire. Harry had to deal with this himself, as Draco would have to when he’d eventually tell his own friends. Draco only hoped that things wouldn’t go too downhill. He didn’t want to be the reason his boyfriend’s friendship ended.

When Harry appeared in the doorway, Draco drew in a breath. He’d imagined many things, sadness or indifference, but Harry’s face showed only one emotion. His eyes were blazing and there was no doubt that he was actually really pissed off. Draco had stood up so he could hug Harry in case the confrontation with Weasley went bad, but cautiously stumbled back. He hadn’t seen Harry this angry since the time they had had been enemies, and he was taken aback by it. He only hoped that Harry’s anger from the morning hadn’t returned. He needn’t have worried, though, as it turned out a second later.

Harry marched into the room, took the first thing that got near his hand and threw it across the room directly at the wall above Weasley’s bed.

“Idiot,” was the only word Harry uttered.

 

As soon as Harry caught Ron in the empty Common Room, the shouting started. He had fortunately managed to cast a quick  _Silencing Spell_ , otherwise people as far as Hogsmeade would have probably heard everything.

“How could you?” Ron started and Harry could tell that it took him a lot of self-control to keep from launching at him, wizards or not.

“How could I what?” he snapped back. This definitely wasn’t how he’d wanted this conversation to go.

“How could you sleep with...with such a ...” Ron uttered through gritted teeth, fists clenched so tightly they trembled, but that might have also been the effect of his fiery anger.

“Such a what, Ron?” Harry had planned to explain himself, to make Ron understand, but Ron was behaving as if he’d done something to be ashamed of, something wrong, and as far as Harry knew, nothing of that kind had happened.

“You know what? I don’t have words for him! You can’t even imagine how disgusted I am right now!” Ron’s face was as red as his hair and it  _might have_  resembled a  _pumpkin_  a bit, after all. “How could you fuck him? He’s a boy, Harry!  And a Malfoy! Have you forgotten what he’s done to us? To you?”

“No, I haven’t, but people change, okay? You just don’t know him!”

“And I don’t even want to! And that’s not even the point here, is it? How could you have done  _this_ , “ he gestured angrily towards the dormitory, “to _her_?”

Harry tried to remain relatively calm, but blood in his veins started to boil. He was only waiting for the moment Ron would say something terrible.

“What do you mean?”

“As if you didn’t know, you pathetic prick! Fuck you, Harry! Go back to cheat on my sister with that slut, we are done,” Ron said and turned on the spot to leave.

 Harry would have let him but for the last sentence. He  _had_  known what Ron was talking about and it was a bit pathetic of him to pretend otherwise, but now really wasn’t the time to tell his possibly former best friend that there were some things he had created only in his head and that reality was as far from it as it could possibly be. And maybe he would have told Ron the truth, had the redhead kept his gob shut. This last sentence, however, brought up another wave of pure anger in Harry’s chest and his will to  _talk_ to Ron about anything dissolved into nothing.

“What did you call him?” his voice was dripping with coldness.

“I told he was a slut. And even that is putting it mildly,” Ron retorted and that was all it took.

Harry’s fist hit Ron’s face first and then everything went blurry. They threw punches into every piece of flesh available, rolling on the floor, not caring if anyone heard or saw them. They would have seriously hurt each other if Hermione hadn’t come to find out what was taking Ron so long.

When they finally separated, both of them headed in different directions without a word, leaving Hermione in the middle of the Common Room totally gobsmacked.  _So much for the possibility of it going well,_ Harry thought bitterly, as he stomped up the stairs angrily.

 

Harry was a little worried that by noon the whole school would know about him and Draco, but Ron obviously hadn’t told anyone about his discovery. He acted as if he’d never known Harry and Harry had to admit it hurt him more than all the punches he’d received in the morning. He knew it was his fault, that he should have told Ron about him and Draco earlier, but on the other hand, who was Ron to tell Harry who he could date?  And calling Draco a slut was the last drop for him. Of course, maybe there might also have been that  _slight_  misunderstanding about Harry dating Ginny, but that wasn’t Harry’s fault either. He had only told his friends that he’d been seeing someone and that it was pretty serious, but he hadn’t given any sign that that someone was Ginny. Ron was creating the scenarios he would like to be the truth, but how could anyone possibly say it was Harry’s fault?

During lunch the whole school knew that something was amiss with the inseparable Gryffindor Trio and gossip flew through the castle. Harry didn’t give a flying fuck about what anyone had to say. He just kept doing his usual things, trying to concentrate in classes and ignoring Ron’s hateful glares and Hermione’s worried ones. Harry wondered if she was familiar with the real reason for his and Ron’s quarrel, but he believed she wasn’t, if the inquiring glances she was sending her boyfriend were anything to go by.

Potions was the worst of all. He was paired, as usual, with his boyfriend, although had Snape known it, he would certainly have opted for different arrangements. Harry could feel Ron’s eyes burning into his back and Draco wasn’t helping any. He tried to behave as if nothing had happened in the morning, but whenever he thought Harry wasn’t looking, he was sending very ugly looks in Ron’s direction, giving him a clear message about who was the more important one. It didn’t take long for Ron to return this behaviour, when he seemingly accidentally kicked the blond under his knee while on their way to the storage room, which resulted in Draco ending up on the floor and Gryffindor losing 50 points. Snape, unlike Harry, actually enjoyed that moment.

Things didn’t get any better until the evening, when all of the Gryffindors sat at their usual table, most of them enjoying the festive feast. The Great Hall looked even more stunning than it had in the morning, the black small bats flew out from their two-dimensional space into the room and were excitedly flying above their heads. The meal was delicious, but Harry almost didn’t taste it. He was silent the whole time, as was Ron, and if someone had miraculously missed the tension between the two of them before, they must have noticed by then.

After a while, Harry couldn’t deal with it any longer and stood up to leave and finish his meal in the kitchens, but a hand stopped him and made him sit back down.

“You are not going anywhere, Harry,” Ginny declared, “Not unless you tell us what the hell is going on between you and my dear brother.” She shot a glare across the table, where Ron was picking in his food with his fork, obviously without any appetite either.

“Ginny, that’s just between me and him,” Harry tried, but knew that when the girl set her mind on something, she wouldn’t give up. She only raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to protest, when he heard another female voice from the other side of the table.

“Oh, I beg to differ, Harry. You two are behaving like two idiots and it affects all of us. And I, for one, am not happy to be in the middle of this. So out with it, or Merlin help me, I will  _make_  you.” Hermione sounded irritated and Harry knew he was doomed. So he opted for the easy way out, hoping that the girls would at least drop this for now. He had no desire to make a show for the whole school.

“Well, to make a long story short, Ron caught me doing something and got a slightly wrong impression,” he said with the air of someone who talks about the day’s episode of soap opera. That, however, had been the wrong answer for Ron who once again didn’t understand that this wasn’t a conversation to be held in public.

“A slightly wrong impression?” he parroted, his voice high pitched. “You gotta be kidding me,  _Potter_. I think I got the impression quite  _right_.”

 “I haven’t done anything wrong, Ron. And I don’t care that you think differently. I just don’t give a shit,” Harry retorted sharply. The way Ron had said his surname stung. “Could you be at least a bit decent and leave it for later?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. Most of the people at Gryffindor table had put down their cutlery by now and stared at them, obviously intrigued.

“I walked on you cheating on my sister with HIM!” The redhead said even louder as if on purpose, putting emphasis on the last word. Now the whole Hall was watching the interaction. “And you’re telling me you did nothing wrong?”

“Yes. I didn’t cheat on anyone.” Harry felt the heat flooding his face, but he was determined. He didn’t think this could get any more humiliating.

“So what would you call it, sticking your dick up someone’s arse while dating my sister?” One of Ron’s fists hit the table with a loud bang. Harry had obviously been wrong.  _Now_  it couldn’t get more humiliating. The Hall went completely silent, except for a couple of excited whispers and muffled sniggers from the direction of the Slytherin table. However, Harry rapidly stopped giving a shrivel fig about that. Ron’s words irked him much more. One more word from him and the fight in the morning would look like a rehearsal compared to what Ron would get from him now.

“That’s enough, Ronald!” Hermione tried, obviously sensing the danger, although she looked anything but calm herself. Her face was red, from the content of her boyfriend’s declaration or from the whole situation altogether, Harry wasn’t sure.

“Ron, Harry wasn’t cheating on me,” Ginny cut in sharply, her voice loud and steady. “I haven’t got back together with him. And if you pulled your head out from the place where sun doesn’t shine, you would have noticed that!”

“You... you...?” Ron croaked, looking totally dumbfounded, his eyes growing big. “But Harry told us he was seeing someone, said he was in love and that it was serious...” He turned back to Harry and then realization hit him. “ _IT WAS HIM_?” His voice was loud once again, anger returning in full. “Are you telling me that the person you’re dating is THAT PRICK?” He yelled at him.

“Ron, STOP calling him that! Or I swear I will punch you again!” Now Harry stood up as well, his nerves a second from snapping completely. “You can think whatever you want, but you won’t call him that or anything else! He is a great person and I won’t have you offending him!” he yelled right back at the redhead without thinking about the audience. A shocked wave washed over the whole room, the staff table being no exception. Snape looked as if he was having the time of his life; McGonagall, on the other hand, watched the scene with her lips firmly pressed in a thin line. None of the teachers intervened, though.

“Oh, so if he's such a great person and all that shite, how come you haven’t told anyone about him, hmm?” Ron sneered at him and although Harry would have loved to answer that, Ginny managed it instead.

“Yeah, because that would have gone so well with you, Ronald! Listen to yourself!  And I, for one, know that Harry was going to tell you this weekend. He told me yesterday,” Ginny stood up next to Harry. Ron turned to her, not able to believe what he was hearing.

“You knew, Ginny? You knew about this the whole time?”

“Of course I did,” she nodded and eyed her brother defiantly. She resembled her mother so perfectly that it made Ron’s attitude drop slightly.

“And you’re okay with that?” he said, but it sounded as if he were choking on his own words.

“Oh, I am. They are bloody perfect together! And maybe, if you opened that damn mind of yours a little, you would see it, too!” She flashed a smile at Harry and he smiled back gratefully. He had known it was the right thing to tell her.

It was too much for Ron and he sat back in his place, obviously trying to decide if this was just a really horrible dream or not. Then he aimed his look at Hermione sitting next to him.

“And you. Have you known, too?” He sounded like he wished he didn’t get the answer to that.

She shook her head. “No, but I figured that Harry would let us know who he was dating when he was ready.” She patted Harry’s arm across the table. “About him not dating Ginny, that I knew, but I didn’t think it was my thing to say,” she added cautiously, awaiting another explosion from Ron.

But none came. Ron fell completely silent and just stared at his plate. The tension was getting thicker and thicker and when Ron finally raised his head, Harry took a deep breath. He had expected many things, another blow in the face or something like that, but Ron did something completely different.

He stood up again, stretched his hand over the table towards Harry and, in quiet and slightly ashamed voice, said, “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry I said those things about him. I guess I overreacted a bit.” He looked sheepishly at Harry for a while. Every pair of eyes in the Hall watched them again.

Harry was completely stunned. “You think?” He got from himself after a minute.

“Look, I will never like him and I still think he is a stupid git, but for what it’s worth, it’s your choice. Still, you could have told me. I am truly sorry,” Ron repeated and stretched his hand even closer to Harry. Harry was still pissed at Ron, but this was a beginning and he would be a fool to refuse it. He also knew that it must have cost Ron a lot to make this gesture. He eyed the offered hand unbelievingly for a while and then took it in one swift movement and shook it.

“You’re a right prat, too, you know that, Ron?” He declared, but a small smile was tugging at the corner of his lips. He was glad when the smile was returned. A minute went by, then another and the noise in the Great Hall grew louder and louder, until it had returned almost to its usual level.  Harry knew everyone was talking about him, but he somehow couldn’t bring himself to care. He sat down, took a bite and part of the stiffness he had felt the whole day lifted from his shoulders. He even risked a quick glance at the Slytherin table and his eyes met Draco’s. He smiled a bit and when the smile was returned, he dared to believe that things would be calm from now on. That is, until Seamus asked the most obvious question there was.  _Tactless prat_.

“So, Harry, will you tell us who this mysterious bloke is?”

Harry had almost forgotten there were people around him and the question startled him. He squirmed in his seat, which didn’t go unnoticed by Ron, who snickered and looked at him with a devilish gleam in his eyes clearly saying  _I will enjoy this._  And Harry had to admit he had probably deserved it, too.

It was now or never, Harry knew, but he also knew it wasn’t only his decision to make. His eyes wandered across the Hall, but the person they sought wasn’t at his place. The whole school was watching him, his every move, eyes hanging on his lips. Harry felt lost. How could Draco  _leave_  now?

Just then one loud sigh resonated through the whole place.

“So you’ve got a boyfriend, I hear, Potter?” A clear voice said right behind Harry and a gentle but firm hand touched his shoulder. Harry smiled, every worry he had ever had about coming out dissolving into nothing. He turned towards the voice and stood up again.

“It would seem so,” he answered, trying to sound unaffected.

“And will you do us the favour and tell us who the lucky person is?” Draco did his best to keep his smile inside, but his eyes shone with happiness. If something was worth this whole scene, this was definitely it. And right then Harry knew there was only one answer to the question. There  _always_  would be.

“Why tell when I can show it?” He said and with that he took Draco’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply.

The whole room went completely silent for a couple of seconds before transforming into one big hive. But Harry didn’t care. He could hear Ron snickering under his breath, Ginny and Seamus cheering and Hermione’s confused  _How didn’t I notice?,_ but the only thing that mattered in that moment was having Draco’s body close, Draco’s hands on his hips and those sweet lips devouring his. Harry had never been more content in his life.

Snape looking as if he’d just drunk a whole batch of Polyjuice Poition was the icing on the cake. This All Saints’ Eve wouldn’t be forgotten in a long time.

 


End file.
